Sugar, Sickness and a Sudden Lapse of Judgement
by Shewritesstuff
Summary: SUMMARY: Sugar doesn't agree with Ichabod…Abbie's sweet nature however is an entirely different matter. But when is sympathy something a little more serious? WARNING: Not very good first attempt and sickeningly sweet fluffy BS. Expect you'll all be as ill as Ichabod at the end of it.


**Sugar, Sickness and a Sudden Lapse of Judgement**

**SUMMARY**: Sugar doesn't agree with Ichabod…Abbie's sweet nature however is an entirely different matter. But when is sympathy something a little more serious?

**WARNING:** Not very good first attempt and sickeningly sweet fluffy BS. Expect you'll all be as ill as Ichabod at the end of it.

"You okay Crane?"

The sound of retching behind the door momentarily stopped and Abbie Mills waited just as she had for the last forty minutes. Her patience however was running out.

"Crane? I'm coming in." Yet again no response came from Ichabod Crane so Abbie made the unilateral decision to go and see how the time traveller was holding up. Glass of water in one hand and Pepto-Bismol in the other she entered the bathroom.

"Miss Mi-mills. I beg of you, a little privacy." Abbie ignored Ichabod plea, instead moving in closer to take a better look at the ill man. He was pale yet clearly sweating and feverish still. His tousled long hair was out of his face and tied back more tightly than usual. Abbie gave the man a small comforting smile then placed the water and medication by the sink. He had stuffed paper towels in his shirt ironically in a manner that usually implies someone's readying themselves for an All-you-can-eat buffet.

_This poor fool._

The helpless look on his face instead reminded her of a child wearing a bid. Ichabod had been unwell before, an illness far more fatal than an upset stomach but for some reason Abbie felt this case of sickness made him look far more tragic. It was breaking her heart a little.

Noticing the way Ichabod took great measure to keep his only set of clothing clean, she decided to help him the only way she could, by picking up his jacket from the bathroom floor, carefully folding it in half and hanging it from the door. However, before Ichabod could express his gratitude he returned to purging his stomach from its contents.

"Better?" Abbie asked once he paused for breath. Again she was ready with the glass of water. Ichabod raised his head slowly from where it hung over the toilet bowl and wiped his mouth with a paper towel. He accepted the water, making sure to rinse out his mouth before speaking.

"I do battle as best as I can Miss Mills, but alas no matter how _saccharine_ one cannot disguise the taste of death as being anything other than what it is." He was breathing heavily. His voice weak but equal parts serious and frustrated.

Abbie wondered how he had managed to splutter out that many words just in time to return to throwing up. "You're gonna be fine Crane." She spoke in a soothing sincere voice. "Just your 18th century self reacting to the sugar and additives in the processed food of today."

Ichabod curled his lip at the simple explanation. Abbie knew he respected her enough to know she was trying to make light of his situation for his own good, but a couple seconds of some more unpleasant gagging made it clear Ichabod just wasn't in the mood.

"Sugar we had in 1781! The script printed on the labels of what I am forced to eat here however, resembles nothing of the sort. I have been poisoned by this generation's fetish for the transmogrification of food until it becomes unrecognisable and as a result _inedible_." He made an attempt to get up and off the floor. Only half up and Abbie had to rush over to help steady him. Leaning on her, he continued to convey his outrage in a low whisper.

"Pray tell me, what was it about the fruits the Earth already bears naturally that required 'tinkering'?" For a second Abbie thought she was going to laugh, but just one look at Ichabod's eyes, narrow and serious and continuing to demand an answer and she held back.

They made their way slowly out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Once she was done helping him sit on the bed, Abbie returned to grab the medication and a large yet empty plastic container.

"For any more accidents." She explained setting the container down by his feet before sitting next to him on the bed. He sighed, apologetically looking at the dark damp circle on an old yet comfortable rug Corbin left behind. Abbie gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Their eyes met and Abbie used that moment to mouth the words 'Don't worry about it.' She was glad to see a weak but genuine smile on Crane's face for the first time since he came down with the illness.

The silence was comfortable like all their silences usually were, but it lasted for too long and so Abbie moved to take care of Ichabod's boots. Ichabod opened his mouth to protest but Abbie was already crouched before him tugging hard to free his left foot.

Giving up and accepting her assistance, Ichabod collapsed backwards onto the bed.

"Real strawberries I guess aren't as sweet or red as the stuff they put in milkshakes." Abbie told him. "Or as cheap."

"Ah! The tax on fresh food." Ichabod's voice was muffled by a pillow he planted his head in. "People are peddling processed_ poison_ to their patrons, those poor saps naively seeking to purchase products fit for consumption." Abbie chuckled at truth behind those words.

"No more, Miss Mills. No more." Taken aback by the sudden seriousness and sadness in his voice Abbie stopped. She was surprised by what she saw. Whilst she had turned around to put away his boots, Ichabod had crawled further onto the bed and made sure to turn away from her.

Worried, she walked towards the head of the bed and sat so she could look down onto his face.

"Hey come on Crane, I'll change your shopping to strictly organic kind. Maybe even get a vegetable garden set up." Abbie's positivity did little to lift Ichabod's spirits. There was this look in his tired eyes that she had seen a few times before. These were the eyes of a man feeling defeated.

"It is not the amenities of this world which I can no longer stand Abbie." He said her name like it was the only thing he understood in this world. Abbie hoped he didn't notice her sudden intake of air. "It is this _feeling_."

She tried to smile but the muscles in her face wouldn't allow it. He was in pain, out of place and more importantly out of patience. It was more than just a case of an upset stomach from eating at Uncle Joe's Diner, a place with less than natural ingredients and impossibly low health standards.

"My body is rejecting the food here as is my soul. It refuses to leave behind the existence I once held to be absolute truth." Ichabod lamented battling the urge to give in to the tears that were beginning to fill his eyes.

"You miss your home." Abbie whispered. She swallowed hard before adding. "Katrina."

There was a moment of silence and for no reason she could understand Abbie felt her heart drop a little.

"I yearn for familiarity." Ichabod finally said. "I am not a proud man Miss Mills, nor am I so egotistical I would refuse assistance where I am greatly in need. But not for one moment do I relish in the fact that almost everything needs to be constantly explained to me." The muscles in Abbie's shoulder's relaxed at the confession, but they tensed once more as Ichabod positioned himself onto his back and looked up directly at her.

"Even the smallest of things, such as communicating with you, is not a task that can be performed without immense effort."

Abbie smiled. "Yeah but you get me_ homie_." She gave Ichabod a friendly yet slightly awkward nudge. Thankfully Ichabod just laughed and Abbie was just glad he was showing signs of cheering up.

"Every other word that comes out of your mouth, yes." He confessed.

"And you're still the brainiest dude I know Crane. By a long shot." She bit on her top lip for a moment, debating whether or not to continue speaking. "And...I wouldn't know what to do without you."

It was Abbie's turn to avoid his eyes.

Ichabod moved to sit up straight on the bed. "And I, without your kindness Abbie, would be damned." Again, that sincere voice he used so often when giving Abbie his thanks. She couldn't help but look at him again for a moment.

"It's an adjustment." There was a serious frown on her face telling him how wrong he was to be so hard on himself. Ichabod nodded, making it clear he understood. "One hell of an adjustment, so give yourself a break...Ichabod."

There was a small yet clear look of surprise on his face. Abbie knew why, she didn't often use his first name, then again he rarely used hers. She felt uncharacteristically shy for a moment.

"I am quite fond of your voice whenever you speak my Christian name, Lieutenant. It is comforting. Somehow it feels oddly familiar."

"That's the fever talking." Abbie laughed she got up and ushered Ichabod to get under the covers and sleep.

He shook his head and replied. "Introspection." Yet Abbie ignored him, already making her way across the room.

"I'm sorry for feeding you junk, full of artificial sweet crap." She apologised and pointed to dresser. "There's medicine, water and saltines. Call me if you need anything else."

Ichabod was smiling when she briefly glanced at his face but she knew he had been smiling the whole time she was busying herself arranging and re-arranging his things in case she missed there was anything he might need once she left him. "There is nothing artificial about the way you tend to me daily. Even before this calamitous state of poor health I am currently, you cared for me."

A noncommittal "Uh-huh" was all Abbie could muster as she desperately tried to ignore the affectionate praise coming her way.

Ichabod continued with his thanks completely oblivious to how uncomfortable Abbie was beginning to feel. "Every bit as admirable as you are a protector of this town lieutenant, you are proving to be quite the attentive nurse. I am forever indebted to you Abigail Mills."

It was heartfelt, the way everything Ichabod Crane ever said to her ever was and would be.

Abbie bit her lips again and shrugged.

What else could she do? Say how it was no big deal making sure the only partner she had in this war against demonic creatures she'd been dragged into didn't end up accidently electrocuting himself or starving to death.

No, doing what she did for Crane was nothing compared to what his _existence_ meant to her.

Without him, she'd be alone once more.

She'd be back to questioning her sanity.

"Stop sweet talking me Crane and shut your eyes." Abbie whispered, her voice slightly quivering with emotion. Ichabod gave her a courteous nod before laying his head down on the pillow.

Once he settled into his bed, Abbie turned to leave but then stopped. She hesitated for a moment then turned around, making her way back to Ichabod's lying form.

Bending over his face, Abbie looked at the resting Englishman before her. His breathing was relaxed and he looked at peace, like he'd taken her advice on board and decided to give himself a break. Her eyes lingering on Ichabod's lips like she was toying with the idea of kissing him goodnight. An innocent kiss, just to convey her feelings. However, she wasn't quite sure what those feelings were.

"Lieutenant?"

Before she could debate those strange thoughts that confused her, Ichabod's eyes had opened and looking straight at the woman whose face was hovering over his at an uncomfortably close proximity to his lips.

Mortified, Abbie did not dare to move.

He was perplexed yet remained utterly passive.

"Goodnight Crane." Abbie whispered then before she changed her mind settled for planting a gentle but sweet kiss on Ichabod's forehead.

It was sudden and stupid, yet within seconds of her regretting the act and thinking of fleeing, Ichabod had gently grasped her hand and responded in kind with a chaste kiss of his own.

A kiss with the kind of warmth and sweetness that spread from her head to her toes like hot cocoa on a winter's eve.

Abbie swallowed hard and executed her escape plan immediately not wishing to find out what else either of them might do.

She was already by the door when her ears caught Ichabod's laboured words.

"Goodnight Lieute- _Abbie_."

As much as she wished it was, the words just weren't enough to tempt her back towards the bed and slip fully clothed under the covers to comfort a man she was beginning to see playing a pivotal role in her life other than the one assigned to him by the Powers that Be.

Maybe she would wake in the morning drowning in wave of delayed regret.

But for now, this moment was sweet enough as it was.


End file.
